I Condemn You
by Itsme66
Summary: Seven years ago, those he thought he knew condemned him. Now the shoe is on the other foot. Slightly angsty. AU


Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his whole universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and her assorted associates. I'm just having a good time playing with it all, and I, unlike the owner, don't make a penny from it.

A/N: This is an attempt at a 'betrayal fic', which I've tried to twist a little. It is mostly a writing exercise, trying to establish a few concepts that I'll need for another fic that I may or may not write, depending on whether my muse returns or stays away. This is highly AU, containing very few spoilers for the first 5 books, and none for the last 2.

**I Condemn You**

The snow crunched under the young woman, as she tried to sneak closer to the cabin in front of her. It wasn't easy though, as she wasn't in any way dressed for the far below-zero temperatures that were the norm in north-western Montana in the winter, and she was ill equipped to deal with four to six feet of powdered snow. Her sensible shoes were great for a stroll through Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, but they were worthless in the Rocky Mountains in January. In short, she was cold to the bones, and her hands and feet were numb lumps of frozen meat after her half-mile, stumbling trek through deep snow that covered invisible undergrowth. She cursed viciously to herself, as she tried to get her right hand to rest on her stomach under her clothes for warmth. Cursed her impulsive apparition before she'd properly researched what she'd meet once she got here, but she'd been so gobsmacked over finding his file, complete with full name and apparition coordinates, she just jumped at it.

No matter, she was here now, and as long as she could keep the element of surprise - and keep her wand-hand functional - her mission would be a success, and things would look bright once again. She'd followed his trail from England to first Toulon, then to Shangri-La, Papeete, to Outer Mongolia, and finally here. He was hers now, and her soul would finally be able to heal.

There. Finally! She was at the cabin's door, and she was positive she'd made no sound to alert the cabin's inhabitant to her presence. While she desperately flexed her right hand's fingers, in an attempt to bring some life to them again, she listened intently for any sound that could mean that she'd been spotted, or something to give away the inhabitant's position in the cabin. She heard nothing though, and acknowledging that she was up against one of the best, she decided to gamble everything on surprise, before she got too cold to do anything at all.

Taking a deep breath – and instantly regretting it, as the frigid air tore at her lungs – she leveled her wand at the door. "Alohomora" she whispered.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, she tried again, with the same result – or lack of...

Suddenly it dawned on her. The door wasn't locked!

As quiet as she could, she edged the last two steps towards the door, and opened it. Then she froze.

There was no reaction from inside.

Very carefully, she pushed the door fully open, then she paused and waited for a reaction. Still nothing. Emboldened by the lack of answer to her being there, she took a few tentative steps inside. Only a single - obviously magical – lamp did anything to push away the deep darkness inside, prompting her to believe that the occupant was asleep somewhere in the cabin. She took another step forward – and found out just how wrong she was!

She froze when she heard a distinctive noise behind her. Cursing internally over her predicament, she immediately spotted where she went wrong. She had been so focused on getting to – and inside – the cabin without being seen, she'd never thought to look behind her! Mad-Eye Moody would turn over in his grave if he knew.

Frantically she tried to pin-point the noise. Until now she'd only heard it in movies, but the sound of a shell being loaded into the chamber of a pump-action shotgun couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Worse, the clicking seemed to have come from anywhere inside a 120-degree angle behind her.

"Stand absolutely still." The soft voice seemed to come from everywhere, leaving her nothing to aim at, and she was painfully aware that she'd never get a spell off, before she'd be filled with pellets.

She chose to obey the order.

"Good girl," the voice mocked. "Now take hold of your wand-tip with your left thumb and pinkie."

She did so.

"You're not entirely stupid, I see," the voice taunted. "Let go of the wand with your right hand, then throw it as far as you can towards the corner to your right."

She hesitated.

"Now!" The force in the still soft voice was almost tangible.

She complied. It wasn't like she could do anything else. She was now separated from her wand by some fifteen feet, but it could just as well have been a mile.

"Fold your hands behind your neck, then get on your knees," was the next order.

She sucked in a breath. This would leave her completely defenseless, and her reaction time to anything would be so slow, she might just as well not react at all. She wasn't much better off now though, so she did as she was ordered.

She felt intensely vulnerable now, and she hated that feeling with a passion. She promised herself that the bastard behind her would pay for this!

"Do you carry a spare wand?" the voice asked.

She kept silent.

"Do you carry a spare wand?" the voice asked again. "The more cooperative you are, the better your chances, and I'll advice you to be honest, 'cause you won't like the result if you deny having one, and I go on to find one." The voice was laced with a significant threat now.

"My left ankle," she murmured. The first words she'd spoken to him in over seven years.

Something cold pushed up her trouser-leg, revealing her back-up wand in its holster. The cold – most likely the shotgun barrel – was then replaced with a warm hand.

"Is it passworded?" the voice now had a slight edge to it.

Her heart-rate jumped. This was her chance!

"Phoenix flame," she said. She felt the familiar tug behind her navel. Then she felt an overwhelming pain in the back of her head, and everything went black.

----------

When she came to, she discovered several things. She was nauseous; she still had a serious pain in the back of her head; she was lying face down on a hard, cold surface; her hands were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied together; and she'd been stripped down to her bra and panties. The last fact was probably the reason, she was freezing cold and covered in goosebumps.

"Welcome to America, Granger," a cold voice said, somewhere behind her. "I'd say it's a pleasure to see you again, but I'd be lying if I did."

"You bastard!" she spat. "Turn me loose this instant!"

"You're in no position to make demands, Granger," the voice said. "I am in charge here, and I make the rules. Remember Granger, you're the one breaking and entering. You're the one who tried to abduct me, and speaking of that... Be glad my portkey ward held up. If it hadn't, I would've blown your stupid head off within a second of us landing whereever you tried to pull me to. Abducting someone who's conscious and holding a gun is a monumentally stupid thing to do." The voice was as frigid as the air outside now.

She blanched. Once again she'd made a rookie mistake that could've cost her life, and still might. She'd been too focused on the desired end result, and not giving enough thought to what had to happen before that. It was true what Tonks had said to her, that personal vendetta would kill any mission. She wondered if it was going to kill her too. It pained her to admit it, but she was terrified of the man behind her.

"So, why am I tied up like this?" she snarked, determined not to show fear. "Got some dark ritual you need a sacrifice for?"

"Shows how much you know, Granger," the voice spat. "I've never used magic for dark purposes in my life, and you're tied up like that because you trespassed onto my land with a wand in your hand, and then tried to abduct me. I want to know why."

She snorted. "Never used dark magic, yeah right! You spent a year and a half with your head in dark tomes, and there were no traces of anything but dark magic in the room where Voldemort died. Pull the other one, Harry."

"As for studying dark tomes... You need to know the enemy, if you're to be able to defend...."

"Bullshit!"

"Oh, yeah.. I forgot.. You're a disciple of Saint Dumbledore. Why make an effort to find the truth, when guesswork is so much more precise, right?" he mocked her.

"What's to find out, Harry? I told you, there were only traces of dark magic in there. How do you explain that when you claim not to have used dark magic? We would've found traces of what you used, then."

"If you're the smartest of your generation, I dread to meet the dumbest! So, there are no traces of light magic in here. We'd better ship the Dark Lord Potter off to Azkaban then, until we can have him kissed. Case closed." He fought to keep his temper. "Was that it, Granger?"

"Yes, pretty much. There was no way the detectors could've failed, and you hightailed it before anyone could get a hold of you, so how you can still deny it, I don't understand. Why don't you be a man and admit it?"

"Yup, case proven. Hogwarts really does make people stupid. I got out of there real quick, because I heard Dumble and the Minister discussing if it was possible to get a Dementor there to Kiss me right away. Anyone sane would've done the same. As for admitting it, why would I? It would be a lie."

"No, Harry.. The lie is here.. Now.. You still haven't explained why we couldn't detect any light magic there."

"No, I haven't explained it, because none of you sanctimonious arseholes ever cared to bloody ask me!" he exploded. "You were all so sure that Saint Dumbasadoor was right, that none of you saw that you were on the verge of doing a Sirius. You couldn't detect the magic I used in there, because I didn't bloody use any, you stupid bitch!" he roared. "I beat and kicked the scaly arsehole to death! I had a few _true_ friends cast a magic suppression dome over the house, and then I went in and kicked his teeth out, while he tried to make his wand work. Once he was seconds from dying, I yelled to my friends to cancel the dome and get out of there, and then I nailed him to the floor. That's what killed most of the Death Eaters. His body tried to regenerate by siphoning their magic through their Dark Marks and failed, but it ripped the life out of those who were close enough.  
The power he knew not... Good oldfashioned Muggle thuggery.

"The room was saturated in dark magic because it was where he lived, you dense bint!"

"No, it can't be!" she whispered in horror. Gone was the humiliation of lying almost naked in front of her former friend. Gone was the pain from being firmly tied up, and gone was the cold that chilled her to the bones. All that was there, was the knowledge that she'd betrayed her best friend in the worst way possible. That she'd hated him for seven years without cause, and that she'd just hunted him down and tried to pull him to what would inevitably have meant his premature death.

Hermione Granger broke down and cried.

"Pathetic!" he spat. "Get a grip, Granger. I saw enough tears of self pity with Chang."

"B-but why?" she sobbed. "W-why didn't you t-tell us?"

"Who would listen?" he asked. "Saint Dumbasadoor had already convicted me, so it was a done deal. I kind of like my soul the way it is, so I only had one choice," he said cuttingly. "Besides, it's not like what happened is a secret," he continued. "After I got out of England, I've been questioned under magical oath and Veritaserum in France, Mongolia, Shangri-La, Tahiti, and America. I'm welcome in every country in the world but Britain. If it wasn't for the Old Goat's self-righteousness and unfounded arrogance, you would've known for seven years. Now I don't care if you do or not.

"Now, why are you here?"

"F-for revenge," she stuttered. "R-revenge and justice."

"Revenge? What for?"

"I-I had a s-son four years ago. Two years ago, I l-left him with G-ginny for an afternoon to take my final tests for the Auror corps. Wh-when I came back, I f-found him d-dead, and Ginny had been t-tortured out of her m-mind. She d-died two weeks later. We all th-thought it was y-you," she cried.

"Nice to know what people think about me," he growled.

"There has b-been a new case like G-ginny and St-stephen on average every t-two months since then," she hiccuped, "and I-I just wanted it to st-stop, so they could r-rest in p-peace."

"Of course.. I got rid of Tommyboy for you, but noone could be arsed to change the conditions that produce these dark guys," he grumbled. "Oh well, I'm not going to save anybody's arse but my own, so this guy is all yours. Have fun with that. Maybe this one can teach you people the value of investigation, rather than relying on guesswork." He paused to calm down a bit.

"Now, as much fun as this is, you're about to leave, 'cause Clouds is coming home soon."

"Clouds?"

"My wife. Amanda Chasing Clouds, of the People's Blue Rock settlement. And before you plan on using her to force me into doing your dirty work, you should know that the People are very protective of their own. They can muster 4000 magical warriors in less than two hours, and they'll go after anyone who touches one of theirs. How long do you think your pathetic Ministry would last against them, Granger?"

She didn't answer.

"Another warning to bring home, Granger. You got in because I let you in. Once you're out of here, my wards will be raised to full power. That basically means, that if you're not keyed into them, you'll die when you hit them, and it'll take more than the combined powers of every mage in Britain to bring them down. There's a reason, I live here."

"No wards are that strong, Harry," she rebuked him, but she had an air of defeat around her.

"Guess again, Granger," was the curt answer. "There are five Ley-lines congregating under this land, and I've hooked the wards up to the crossing point. That makes my wards exactly as strong as those around Shangri-La, only theirs are protecting an area thirty times the size."

"I... Never mind. I'll leave you alone. I owe you that," she sighed. "I can't guarantee that any information won't be taken by Legilimency, you know.."

"Doesn't matter. If anybody are dumb enough to go after me, they'll learn what Hell is about. My great-great-great-grandfather-in-law is in charge of security for the Settlement. He's the wisest, and most unforgiving, man I've ever met. He'll rain uholy terror down on anyone making a move on Clouds or me.

"Please, identify your portkey."

"What?"

"Identify your portkey, Granger. You're leaving, and you'll need your portkey for that."

"Why? I mean, I'll just get dressed, and then I can use it when I clear the wards."

"Are you really that daft, Granger? This is how it goes: You'll identify your portkey. I'll then throw it a few yards out the door, and then I'll put you outside too, and release you. You'll then pick up your portkey, go to the edge of the wards, and then you'll portkey away from here, never to come back." He smirked. "I'll send your wand C.O.D."

"What?! Are you insane? You want me to leave my wands here, and walk half a mile in just my underwear in the freezing cold?" she shrieked.

"I can strip you of the underwear too, if that's a problem for you," he answered drily. "I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, Granger, so it's either this way, or I can turn you over to the Aurors in Virginia City, charged with trespassing; breaking and entering with intent to cause deadly harm; carrying an unregistered wand; and attempted kidnapping. And unless I'm very much mistaken, you're here illegally, so the Muggles would probably love to have a chat with you too. In total, I'd think you're looking at twelve to fifteen years in Yuma. On the bright side though, you won't have to worry about the cold there," he mocked. "Time's up! What's it going to be, Granger?"

She had no fight, and no spirit left. "The ankle-holster," she murmured. "The ankle-holster is the portkey."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he taunted. Petty of him, he knew, but he had seven years of pent-up rage and grief, and she was the first one he'd had to release any of it on.

He went and threw the holster out in the snow, then turned back, released her ankles, and pulled her to her feet, none too gently.

As he dragged her to the door, he told her: "I don't care if you've passed the tests for the Auror corps, Granger. You're a bloody amateur! All the way in from the ward line, when you fought your way through the snowdrifts, you were never more than five yards away from a walking path with no more than six to eight inches of snow. When you leave, be sure to stay on that path. I don't want to deal with removing your dead body come springtime."

Hermione rallied. "Please, Harry, how can I make it up to you. How can we get your help with this?" she pleaded in a last ditch effort.

"You're joking, right?" Harry was shocked. "There is no way in Hell, I'm going to help you, Granger. No way in Hell! Seven years ago, without a shred of evidence, you all condemned me. Now I'm condemning you.

"You're welcome to tell all those back in Britain everything you've learned here, and be sure to tell them 'Up Yours' for me. Now get the Hell off my land"

With that final goodbye, he released her wrists, and closed the door.

Twenty minutes later, a hypothermic, broken, and hysterically sobbing Hermione Granger finally activated the portkey that would take her to Hogwarts' hospital wing. Her last, conscious thought as she landed, was how ironic it was that she'd set out to heal her soul and her mind, and now her life would forever stay an even worse mess than before.

At the same time, thousands of miles away, Harry Potter greeted a statuesque, bronze-coloured woman with an enthusiastic kiss, and then proceeded to tell her all about the visit from his past, before they went and enjoyed the beautiful evening.

**Fin**


End file.
